


Take a Blade for You

by Higgystar



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, prompt, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2488391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gareth stabs Daryl at Terminus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take a Blade for You

The gag cuts in to his face, tearing at his lips and Daryl knows his breathing is erratic right now. He can’t help it, this is a situation he was both familiar and lost with.

Knowing that injury was coming was not new. It’s something he’s spent his life dealing with, feeling the nerves and trepidation build up inside of himself as he awaits that initial blow. Pain was nothing, it wasn’t nice but it was manageable. He could deal with being hurt but the thing he can’t deal with is the company beside him.

Rick’s shoulder presses into his, he can feel Glenn shaking a little beside him and this is the first time he wouldn’t be alone when taking his lumps. There are others, Bob has been dragged in here with them, forced to Rick’s other side and he knows the other man may be a boozer but that didn’t mean he was any more worthy of this than they were. He doesn’t know the other people, men, they’re all men and they’re all kneeling, like sacrifices before a trough and he knows exactly what this is for.

Daryl can’t help but struggle a little, feeling small, feeling overwhelmed and lost in all of this. There hasn’t been any questions, no push for information from them at all and he knows this isn’t what it’s all about. Those pushing them about move like it’s a job, stiff and uncaring, there’s no sympathy here and fuck he’s had this feeling before. The knowledge that there is no escape, no words or way of getting out of this.

He’s small again, young and afraid, breathing heavily and wanting to find a way out. Daryl is not ashamed to admit that he is afraid right now, when the odds are against him, he’s bound and not able to use his body in his own defence and Rick, Glenn, Bob, his people are in the same position as himself. Breathing fast he’s on edge, fingers curling into fists all the same and he can’t help but curl in on himself a little as he remembers feeling like this before.

Warmth nudges against his shoulder, Rick not looking at him, but squirming in place, checking their surroundings, looking for a way out, but giving him support, some comfort and being there for him as he panics. He appreciates it, but when the bat starts swinging, the knife starts slicing and blood begins spattering against the metal of the trough before them there is no quelling his terror.

Death walks down the line, drawing every closer to them all, to his people, to his family and there’s nothing he can do no matter how hard he wriggles his hands and cuts off the circulation to his fingers. There is no way out, these people are organised, they’re efficient and even worse; this is not their first rodeo. Emotions will not work and even though he feels his muscles relax a little when Gareth stops the killing, he’s still panicked. They talk above them, a normal conversation, merely men at their day job and talking over the heads of the animals they had to kill.

Bob is yelling, Gareth is stalling and there’s something in the man from terminus’ eyes that he doesn’t like. He’s cold. There’s nothing there that he can see, just a blankness, a calmness that is terrifying when there were four human corpses literally a few feet away from them. Daryl hates the man with a passion, the anger churning in his gut and the want to have his revenge for putting them all through this. Chewing on the gag he watches him closely, very aware of his positioning when he reaches out to drag out Rick’s gag.

He listens, trying to keep his breathing steady, trying to keep calm but not able to stop his heart from beating twice as fast when the man starts asking questions. Gareth is so calm, like this is easy for him and they’re not going to be slaughtered in a few moments. It’s feral and pathetic but Daryl wants to hurt the man for even daring to talk to Rick like that, like they don’t matter, like they were nothing after all they had been through. And when Rick doesn’t answer he feels pride run through him for a moment but then Gareth has a knife and he moves on instinct.

It’s not something he thinks about. He just does it and though it’s a small move, as soon as the blade is out, he’s shoving his body weight in to Rick’s side, managing to nudge his friend back and shield at least a few inches of Rick’s body with his own. It’s not a lot, but it’s a gesture, it’s something he’s willing to do and he can only glare with grit teeth around the gag towards Gareth.

There’s a small laugh, Gareth smiles and Daryl doesn’t shift his gaze but he feels Rick shift back in to place beside him, their shoulders pressed together hard, unyielding, a heavy weight against his own and despite it all he’s glad he’s not alone. His move of defiance hasn’t cleared the air, it hasn’t saved their lives, all it’s done is let his loyalty be shown in his last few moments of life. He’ll take it. It’s enough.

“Tell me what’s in the bag Rick.” Gareth repeats himself, toying with the blade now, spinning the knife in his fingers and meeting his friend’s gaze. Daryl remains pressed to Rick’s side, able to feel his stubbornness and determination even if everything seemed bleak right now. The silence is deafening and the few seconds it takes seem to drag on forever. Rick doesn’t even move, and though there’s not a shred of emotion in Gareth’s eyes, Daryl likes to think he’s pissed.

There is no answer, Rick keeps his cards close to his chest and there’s a flicker of hope within himself that Rick deems it important to keep their weapons a secret. As if they’re going to get out. They need those weapons for when they do. This is not the end for them. It’ small but it’s hope and it’s helping ease the panic despite everything.

And Gareth moves, quick as a flash, no warning, no words, just movement and Daryl does what feels natural once more. But this time the knife isn’t aiming for Rick at all.

The blade was meant for his arm but he’d moved, gone to protect Rick once again and had plunged into his shoulder instead, digging in beside his collarbone, probably bisecting a scar already there and the pain hits him like a smack to the mouth. It’s like a punch. A sudden burst, it rocks him to his very core, hitting him hard, making the breath leave him in a loud huff behind the gag and he’s leaning, losing balance and colliding in to Rick’s warmth as he can do nothing more than stare at the hilt of the knife stuck in his shoulder.

He’s breathing heavy, panting practically and unable to draw his eyes away from the knife, knowing where the blade is, able to feel it inside of himself and not able to do anything about it. He can feel Rick against him, leaning into him, practically holding him up as he pants in pain and horror of what’s just happened.

“Weapons.” Rick blurts out. His stomach churns and through the pain the guilt takes him, swallowing him whole and letting him know that this is his fault. Rick was telling Gareth their secrets because he managed to get hurt. It’s Rick’s way of protecting him, his way of stopping it from happening again and he hates that even without being able to open his mouth, he’s managed to let them down again.

Rick lists off their weapons, making an idle threat in Gareth’s direction and Daryl finds himself making a mental note of it, hoping that it’s going to happen in the future even if things didn’t look so good. His heart is beating faster, adrenaline kicking in and having the blade stuck in to his flesh is the only thing keeping him from bleeding out right now. It aches, it makes his eyes water and though before him Gareth is smiling, he refuses to let a sound of pain escape behind the gag.

Flagging in to Rick’s side a little more he flinches when Gareth reaches for him, natural instinct to back away from people mixing with fear of being hurt and knowing that he cannot have the knife removed when he had no hands free to stem the flow. Gareth’s fingers reach out, lingering in the air between them even as Rick leans back, letting his body go with him to keep him from harm’s way, trying to keep Gareth’s fingers from reaching the hilt of the knife. They brush it, he grunts back a small hiss of pain and the fear is back when he sees something glimmer in Gareth’s eyes.

Then there are gunshots, he tenses, Rick tenses behind him, even Gareth tenses before them and there are questions thrown about, both verbal and silence. Then more gunshots, there’s some trembling in the ground, in the air and suddenly the world moves around them, an explosion of some sort and he’s on the ground, on his back and gritting his teeth around the pain that hits him.

Rick is shifting beneath him, constant movements, a rocking and he’s trying to roll away, managing to get onto his side next to Glenn and letting Rick do whatever the hell he’s doing. The trough hides Gareth from his view, but he can hear him, he can hear the panic, the terror of the unknown and then the man is gone, leaving them with Tweedle Dum and Tweedle-fucking-Dee to deal with. It’s better, Rick is moving and the men are too stupid, letting their guard’s down and he knows this is it. This is their moment.

He’s not disappointed, Rick moves fast, there is that same fire in his eyes he had when he bit that fucker Joe’s throat out and soon enough the men are down. Dead, stabbed with a shard of wood and Rick is moving over them. He cuts their bonds, Bob and Glenn before his own and it’s when Rick and the other two are hovering over him that he figures out why.

“Don’t move Daryl.”

“Do we take it out or leave it in?”

“Fuck how deep is it?”

The gag is shifted from his mouth, dragged about his neck and he’s still breathing heavily, hissing as Rick finally cuts his arms free and the pain of getting circulation back makes him arch a little. Fingers press on his chest, pinning him down, Bob is there, checking the wound and making him grit his teeth in pain as he prods at it. “Ain’t got time!” He hisses, wanting to get up, to move, to get away and out of this fucking place. “Need to get out. Need weapons, gotta move Rick.” He tells his friend and there is a hesitation there in his eyes.

Shaking his head he tries to move anyway, finding his legs trembling, cramping as he tries to stand and everyone moves to keep him on the floor. “Don’t be stupid, you’re hurt.” Glenn tells him, but as soon as he’s down again the kid is on the move, darting about the room, gathering knives, weapons for them all and coming back to hand them out. Daryl’s pleased that they haven’t all lost their senses.

Rick looks stuck, glancing about the room to the door, clutching the knife he’s grabbed from Glenn and looking down at where he sits with worry. He can’t decide, he’s lost in the middle of a choice and Daryl cannot stand by and have this happen when they finally had a moment to do something. “Bind it.” He tells them, moving to grab at the handle of the blade himself and gritting his teeth at the flare if pain it sends shooting over his chest and down his arm. “Get some fucking stuff, pack it and fucking bind it so we can get out of here.”

“If you’re going to move we need the knife out, it’ll only do more damage if it gets hit.” Bob tells him, grabbing at the fabric Rick tears from what’s left of his jacket, cramming some into a wad and pulling Daryl’s own clothing away from the wound. “Right now it’s like a plug, we’ve got to get the knife out and pack the wound to stop the bleeding. Like putting a cork in a bottle.”

“So do it already and let’s move.” He snarls, the pain is getting to him, the worry is still inside of him and he doesn’t want the adrenaline to wear off when he’s going to need it to get through moving out of here. Right now they needed him ready to fight and he wasn’t going to get very far if they didn’t move. “Just do it.” He tells Bob, meeting the man’s eye and getting a nod of understanding in return.

It really is like taking out a plug. There’s resistance, his body making a suction around the blade and he cannot hold back a yell of pain as it’s yanked from his body. Before he can react there’s the skitter of the knife being tossed against the tiles, no one wanting to wield it when it was tainted with his blood, three sets of hands begin adding pressure to his wound and he’s seeing stars in front of his eyes.

There’s noise, dark patches over his vision and he’s blinking a lot, trying to listen to what’s happening and very aware of how long Rick’s beard has gotten when the man is hovering over him. “Daryl! Stay with me, you’ve got to stay awake. Stay awake Daryl!” Rick tells, no, commands him and dammit he’s not going to ignore the man he respects so much now when it’s important. Lifting a hand in response he can feel as strips of cloth are wrapped around him, a belt looped over his shoulder and under his arm, adding pressure and pressure and pressure until blood doesn’t leak down his chest when they sit him up.

It’s not easy, it fucking hurts like a bitch but he’s had worse, he’s always had worse and right now they didn’t have time for a Daryl pity party. Rick’s fingers tighten over his wrist, slinging his good arm over his shoulder and starting to half drag, half support him to the doorway. Bob is bringing up the rear with Glenn skittering in front, alternating between checking on the door and looking back to him. Clenching his fingers into a fist, Daryl tries to pull away from Rick, wanting to stand on his own two feet and not be a hindrance when they didn’t need one.

Rick is still there, he’s always there by his side by Daryl knows the man I frantic for his son and the rest of their family, it couldn’t all be about him all the time. He gets that and gives a nod as he manages to support himself on his own two feet. Clenching his good hand around the hilt of a new knife he positions himself besides Glenn and Bob, letting Rick take the lead he needs to as they make their way out of the door and into the chaos. 


End file.
